Friday, September 24, 2010

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

“The following poem is the Detroit from my mind. The Detroit that is in my heart. The home that encapsulates and envelops those who are truly blessed with the experience of living within its boundaries.” — Jack White

'Courageous Dream's Concern,' by Jack White

I have driven slow,three miles an hour or so,through Highland Park, Heidelberg, and theCass Corridor.I've hopped on the Michigan,and transferred to the Woodward,and heard the good word blaring from ana.m. radio.I love the worn-through tracks of trolleytrains breaking through theirconcrete vaults,As I ride the Fort Street or the Baker,just making my way home.

I sneak through an iron gate, and fishrock bass out of the strait,watching the mail boat withits tugboat gait, hauling words I'll never know.The water letter carrier, bringing prose to lonely sailors,treading the big lakes with their trailers,floats in blue green chopping waters,above long-lost sunken failures,awaiting exhumation iron whalers,holding gold we'll never know.

I've slid on Belle Isle, and rowed inside of it for miles.Seeing white deer running alongsideWhile I glide, in a canoe. I've walked down Caniff holding a glassAtlas root beer bottle in my hands And I've entered closets of coney islandsearly in the morning too.I've taken malt from Stroh's and Sanders,felt the black powder of abandoned embers,And smelled the sawdust from wood cut to rehabilitate the fallen edifice.I've walked to the rhythm of mariachis,down junctions and back alleys,Breathing fresh-baked fumes of culturenurtured of the Latin and the Middle East.I've fallen down on public ice,and skated in my own delight,and slid again on metal crutches into trafficked avenues.

Three motors moved us forward,Leaving smaller engines to wither, the aluminum, and torpedo,Monuments to unclaimed dreaming.Foundry's piston tempest captured, Forward pushing workers raptured,Frescoed families strife fractured,Encased by factory's glass ceiling.Detroit, you hold what one's been seeking,Holding off the coward-armies weakling,Always rising from the ashesnot returning to the earth.I so love your heart that burnsThat in your people's body yearnsTo perpetuate,and permeate,the lonely dream that does encapsulate,Your spirit, that God insulates,With courageous dream's concern.